An Enemy of Blood
by Have Hope
Summary: A mysterious individual is smuggling heavy weaponry onto the streets of Gotham during a time of the notrious citys' most peacefu periods.


**Batman: Darkened Tales**

**Tainted Reflection**

**Chapter 1: Cannot Catch What The Eye Can't See**

It's another eventful night on the smoky streets of Gotham. As prostitutes and pimps go about their daily affairs on the piss-ridden sidewalks; 'respectable' individuals in suits pass nervously hoping not to get mugged. As four police cars zoom past with their sirens echoing annoyingly through the night, people ignore it as it is more than expected during these hours.

'Billy; stay on him!' a veteran cop bellows between scruffy bites of a jam doughnut.

'He's firmly in my sights sir' the other youthful cop replies firmly.

The chase has been going on for almost twenty minutes now which is why reinforcements were called in. The car their chasing is a black sedan that despite its rumpled boot, and scarred sides still manages to weave round tight bends as smoothly as a formula 1 car. The chase has now been taken to the lower side neighbourhood where pedestrians are in danger. It is time for this car game to draw to a close.

As the chase continues through the narrow road, a dark figure watches from atop scaffolding like a patient hawk.

'C, you're a fucking legend behind the wheel' an over-excited and over-dosed youth utters as he looks back at the police cars.

'C' does not answer and simply has his eyes totally fixated on the road like a boy watching pornography for the first time. 'C' takes a hard right into an alley which loses the pursuit of the police.

'C, that was totally awesome man' the youth screams as he looks back with an ecstatic smile. 'The boss will never believe we got all the equipment to him.'

Before the two know it, a dark figure pounces on their bonnet which frightens the youth out of the car. 'C' looks on and cannot make out who this creature is. But his associate knows this creature all too well.

'Batman!' the youth shouts.

Batman opens the door forcefully and flings 'C' out of his seat onto the streets of the night rats. Batman looks through the car with fixed frown on his face, his eyes in full concentration. He then opens the boot and finds enough weapons to start a fully-fledged gang warfare and make any triad happy.

'Just some toys for the night' Batman grunts as he throws a silver magnum towards the terrified youth.

'Pl…please I was just following orders…I…I…have no money. Have to pay the bills.'

Batman walks over to the youth, bends down and puts his mouth next to his ear. 'Where did you get the weapons?' he says very slowly but with terrifying intent.

'H..h…' the youth stutters, sweat speeding down his face like an army of charging ants.

Batman picks the youth up by the scruff of his neck and grinds his teeth with anger with his eyes more menacing in the darkness of the alley. The youth notices that Batman now has a bushy beard that covers up most of his lower-face.

'He has no name. We didn't even see his face. Falcone just told us to go to the address and pick the equipment up.'

Batman looks down at the floor in thought. He knew Falcone would be behind something like this. It made him a lot angry to hear he was using children to carry out his crime. But who was this individual that had so much weaponry?

'Run…hide…just make sure Falcone doesn't see your face' Batman whispers coldly as he lets go off the boy. He then scampers off as fast as he can.

Batman looked to see where the other one had got to but he was gone. However, he left footmarks that led into a side alley.

'C' kept on running as far away as he could until he got to a bus stop. He ruffled inside his jacket but kept on pulling out un-used condoms and cinema tickets. Thankfully, he found enough change to get him home. He waited at the bus stop with images of seeing Batman for the first time still in his head. The bus was heading his way which made the boy try and relax himself. As the bus arrived, 'C' looked up and he could only find one word to describe what he saw on top of the bus.

'Shit!' the boy shouted as he began to run again.

Batman quickly fired the tight rope from his bat-gun which tripped 'C' up. Before he could get up, Batman was face to face with him, half crouching.

'Run and I will find you' Batman uttered in a hardened fashion. 'What do you know about the individual that gave you the weaponry?'

'I…I'm not scared of you, like the other cowards' 'C' said, struggling to be calm.

Batman grins and looks up at a lamp-post.

Fifteen minutes later, Commissioner Gordon is being driven by an officer back to the police department.

'So we don't even have any suspects' Gordon shakes his head with half a grin as he sips some coffee from his paper cup.

'Commissioner; do you see that?'

Gordon and the officer look through the wind-shield and then get out of the car. The officer stays back with his gun armed while Gordon approaches a slightly different looking lamp-post.

'So how did you get up there?' Gordon asks as he couldn't help but smile.

'C' tries as best he can not to say it, but the words come out as quietly as he can. '…Batman.'

Within the confines of Wayne Manor, in the sitting room, Bruce Wayne sits by the fireplace. His eyes seem almost fixed in position and are as firm as steel. Very little expression or emotion is showed in his face as he stares at the peaceful flames. He hasn't shaved in a month and has not visited the barber in the last four months. But Bruce likes himself this way. He feels strangely freer in his current stature.

'So let me go over this once again; four Ak-47's, six silver magnums, five dual Berettas and four machine guns' Alfred utters as he takes a sip of tea with a worried look.

'Yes' Bruce Wayne nods as he looks down at the floor in thought.

'That is some serious arsenal; even in a city like Gotham.'

'Who ever owns it either wants to get caught or knows they cant get caught. I prefer to believe they know they can't get caught. I just can't understand how such weaponry is in Gotham in the first place.'

'Things have been really good as of late; most of the top criminal are in either in Arkham of in jail.'

'Apart from Falcone.'

'I thought he was behind bars for the murder of that lawyer?'

Bruce stares at Alfred in a very serious manner and gets up and walks to the window.

'I met a boy on the streets last night; he said he wasn't scared of me' Bruce utters with a more depressed expression. 'Alfred; do I still hold the same amount of fear on those streets?'

'In my personal opinion, anything dressed up as a bat is bound to give me a fright. All because he wasn't showing his fear on the outside doesn't mean he did not have it on the inside.'

'Is there ever a time when you won't be able to have any word of encouragement' Bruce says with a warm smile as he turns to Alfred.

'When you come back to the house almost dead, I definitely will not be encouraging you to wear that costume again?'

'It's not a costume it's a…'

'Persona, I know.'

The Falcone mansion stands out like a black spot on a white sheet of paper on Avery Lane in the upper part of Gotham. Its wide enough to fit two and a half terraced houses with two swimming pools visible from the sky. In the balcony Falcone relaxes to some breakfast with one of his men looking on as he reads the paper.

'C will never talk, the kids' got strong balls' Falcone utters with a mouth-ful of toast in his expensive white dressing-gown.

'What about the other one boss?'

'Make sure you find him. If they catch him, he'll talk.'

'But wouldn't he have spilled the beans to Batman?'

'Tom, you don't read the papers?' Falcone smiles as he holds up the newspaper. 'Batman is portrayed as a solo outfit now. If anybody is coming for me, it will only be Batman.'

Falcone throws the paper from the balcony and onto the floor. He then commences his breakfast of scrambled eggs, baked beans and Irish sausages, attempting to enjoy his un-expected freedom from the lonely chains of Gotham prison.

Gotham police department is busier than ever. Phones are ringing endlessly, sheets of paper are scattered around like confetti from a South American football match, police officers are shouting at each other across the room and there are enough doughnut packets to make a gluttonous person more than satisfied. The papers have gone crazy over the events of last night. The press is putting pressure on the police department to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible.

'One crime and everyone thinks it's the end of the world' Sergeant Dickson laments in sarcastic laughter waving a newspaper around. 'It's like everyone seems to forget this city had the highest crime rate five months ago.'

'I'm more worried about the picture they posted of me in the paper' Lieutenant Rogers utters looking at the paper as he shakes his head. 'They made my head bigger on purpose.'

The office burst into laughter only to be cut short by Commissioner Gordon walking in. The officers all took their seats with their pens and pads of paper at the ready.

'We have done well to keep the city streets reasonably safe for the past five months' Gordon begins walking up and down next to his chair. 'We can't give up all that hard work now. I want to know how this operation began. Ask all the questions needed, break into the houses that need to be broken into.'

This caused an officer to smile and nod his head.

'Fisher!' Gordon shouts.

'Yes sir.'

'This is not Hollywood. We are a respectable police department and when I mean break in, I mean do it in a respectable manner. But most importantly, find that snake who thinks he can smuggle four hundred grand worth of equipment into this city.'

The next week was full of activity. Several people were questioned, others were treated as suspects and held in jail. But the week had gone and not a single lead on the person that had supplied the goods. Commissioner Gordon especially interviewed Falcone but the Italian claimed he knew nothing about the whole fiasco. Gordon did not buy the Italians' lies, but he couldn't do anything about it.

The press were now going over their heads with criticisms of the police force and calls for Gordon to be replaced. Some even believed that Gotham was heading for the dark ages from the past. Gordon was under pressure, and now more than ever, he needed the help of Batman.

Meanwhile, Falcone was sitting to down to some dinner at his exquisite marble dinner-table. He knew that the police had a suspicious eye on him but just as long as certain individuals did not talk, he was as innocent as the squeaky clean lawyers walking down Gotham Central on Monday morning. The Italian crime boss was about to put a fork of salad in his mouth when the lights went out. He quickly reached for his gun in his pocket but it was gone. He sat down trying to keep calm while sipping some of his cold beverage.

'Wednesday night' Batman asserted firmly.

'I'll tell you all I know if you maintain your separation from the cops' Falcone replied.

'Listening.'

'First day back from that stinky cell' Falcone starts as he lights his cigar. 'I sit on my chair and I get a phone call. This guy just tells me straight that he wants to give me four grand worth of weapons to bring back crime onto the streets of Gotham. I thought this was like some big joke and was about to put down the phone. He then told me of how he was the one that got me out of jail. How he paid for the best lawyer and got some insiders to 'talk' to the judge. Being a crime boss for this long, you can tell when guys are lying and when they're dealing with facts.'

'What was his angle?'

'As I said; he wanted crime back on the streets of Gotham and he knew I had the muscle but not the weaponry.'

'Where did it come from?'

'I've told you all I know. What I have told you is what he told me; nothing more.'

There was silence for about a minute then the lights came back on. Falcone got up from his chair and spent the next half shouting at his guards about how they allowed Batman to break into his home un-noticed.

Over the next few days, things got worse. Over fifty busts were made with low-life criminals possessing weapons that were well beyond the capacity of their pockets. Still, there was absolutely nothing on the man dishing these items to the less savoury ones.

It was a very uneasy atmosphere in the home of Commissioner Gordon. His wife reads the paper everyday and knows the immense pressure he is under. She decides she needs to talk to her husband.

'James, we need him' Sandra whispered holding Gordons' hands.

'Sandra, this is just a small incident that we will take care of.'

'Have you read the papers?' Sandra says raising her voice slightly. 'This invisible man is smuggling very dangerous items into this city. If you don't stop it now it could get really bad.'

'Nobody has seen Batman in months. I think the consensus is that he may have left Gotham. He deserves a vacation.'

'James, I'm your wife, you can tell me how you really feel.'

'We need him' Gordon mutters looking in a sorrowful manner at Sandra.

'Daddy, look I saw Batman' Gordons' child cries from the other room.

Gordon immediately rushes outside but can only catch the end of Batmans' cape twirl round a corner.

'Wait!' Gordon cries through the night as he runs through the puddles of a very narrow alley-way.

Gordon reaches the end of the alley-way and sees no sign of Batman. Before he can turn around he hears a harsh whisper in his ear.

'Phillips High playground…come alone' Batman harshly whispers swiftly.

About half an hour later, Gordon pulls up at the Phillips High car par, right next to the playground. Just for protection, he brings his gun with him and keeps it in his gun-holster. Gordon walks slowly through the wet and moist grassy surface of the playground while looking round for Batman. Gordon walks over next to a tall statue of the founder of Phillips High, Gregory Phillips. Gordons' father knew him very well, and he remembers when a group of thugs murdered him right after his birthday celebration.

'Take a seat on the bench' Batman whispers from an unknown location. 'Just keep looking forward and nowhere else.'

Gordon obeys and takes a seat on the wet wooden bench right infront of the statue. Meanwhile, Batman crouches just behind the statue and looks in the opposite direction to Gordon.

'What do you think is going on?' Batman asks sharply.

'I don't know' Gordon utters taking off his glasses and looking downwards. 'This guy must be good because in a whole week we have nothing on him. Not even a description of any sort. Batman we…'

'Insiders' Batman snaps.

'What?' Gordon mumbles putting on his glasses in hurried fashion.

'Snitches, Con-men.'

'How?'

'He's good, real good. The only way you'll beat him is by raising your game.'

'Don't you mean _our_ game?'

Gordon doesn't hear any reply, he turns round and slowly gets up. He slowly walks over to the statue and looks round it. There was nothing. Gordon breathed heavily with a let-down look. He could not understand why Batman had become so reclusive as of late. But it did help knowing he was looking into the situation as well.

In Geneva, a taxi stops right next to the well known Intercontinental Hotel. A man walks out with a dense black Armani suit and an open red shirt. He has wide broad shoulders and an imposing aura about him. His trousers have been ironed to perfection with no creases and his red suede shoes have been extensively polished and shine proudly. He gives the taxi-driver twenty euros when the fee is actually fifteen but before the driver can give him back his change, the man walks into the hotel. The driver shrugs his shoulders and puts the five euros into his pocket and drives off.

As the man walks to the reception, the people around him walk away and stare at him in an estranged manner like his from another planet. At the reception table, the man removes his golden samurai sword holder and lays it carefully on the table. The female receptionist looks on with a worried look.

'Can I help you?' she asks with forced smile.

'…room…for one' the man mutters through his black ninja mask.

'Do you have a reservation?'

'…yes.'

'Name?'

'Christian, Christian Wayne.'

_Stay tuned for Chapter 2: Working It For Years courtesy of A Have Hope Presentations._


End file.
